


Older But Not

by Brigdh



Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brigdh/pseuds/Brigdh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day in the future, Hisoka realizes Muraki has a mortal lifespan, and eventually it will end.  </p><p>Written for b_hallward, who asked for an older Hisoka.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Older But Not

Hisoka has an unfair advantage: at least he can read his partner's moods, if his partner is going to be strangely silent and melancholy and stand on the hotel balcony staring into the distance for what seems like hours.

Tsuzuki has to ask.

"What are you thinking about?"

Hisoka shrugs. "I'm not sure." He shifts his weight, thinking carefully before speaking. He still does that sometimes, portioning out his words as though he resents giving them up. Tsuzuki can be patient; trying to rush Hisoka is more likely to end the discussion than result in faster revelations. "Muraki's probably dead by now."

"Probably," Tsuzuki echoes, hedging his answer. Hisoka is a dark patch against the city lights, his silhouette a solid shadow at the edges where he blocks out houses and streets and other hotels. The lamp next to the bed reaches just far enough to illuminate a few of the wrinkles on the back of his shirt, to catch in the blonder strands of his hair. Tsuzuki doesn't want to talk about this.

"I stayed for that." Hisoka adjusts his grip on the railing. He still holds himself too stiff and strict when he's uneasy, an old habit that refuses to die. "Muraki was my reason for not moving on."

"I know." Tsuzuki won't say more than that, but even though he refuses to consider the logical consequence to Hisoka's beginning, he can _feel_ it. He stares hard at Hisoka's back and memorizes the familiar outline, long, thin limbs and narrow shoulders, and it hurts even if he won't think it.

Hisoka turns, and now the lamplight falls on the still-soft curve of his cheek and reflects in his eyes, which will always be childishly large. "Don't be stupid," he says, but his tone is more apologetic than annoyed. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

Tsuzuki smiles too quickly at him. "Alright."

"I couldn't. Tatsumi would have a nervous breakdown if he found out you still don't know how to use the computer system." This was Hisoka's idea of teasing him. Hisoka's sense of humor is nothing like Tsuzuki's; it's too quiet and mostly internal. He doesn't bother to laugh at the things that he thinks are funny, but he smiles sometimes, the smallest curve to his lips and a crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

He's doing it now, watching Tsuzuki and waiting to see if he gets the joke. Tsuzuki laughs and falls back on the bed, running a hand through his hair and glancing at Hisoka through his fingers. He likes to see him smile. "So mean."

Hisoka humphs softly, moving out of Tsuzuki's field of vision as he steps off the balcony and wanders across the room. "I'm not mean. You're too sensitive."

Tsuzuki continues to look through the open door, studying the now-visible tiny halos of yellow and white light. "You could," he says, trying to keep his tone light.

Hisoka mumbles something. Tsuzuki turns: Hisoka's stuck the case file in his teeth while he rifles through his suitcase with both hands. It makes him look silly, but only for a moment, and then he's found his pajamas and drops the file back on top. "I don't want to," he says again. "I never should have brought it up."

"Why did you?"

"Because it's been too long since we had a hard case. Something's got to go wrong."

"Cynic," Tsuzuki says, because it's so like Hisoka to think that that it must be true.

"Naïve," Hisoka says, which is the expected answer, and it's as comforting as his pessimism.


End file.
